First Saturdays free porn video

This story is pretty much all real. Mouth-to-god, cross-my-heart, stick-a-needle-in-my-eye, all that shit. I know it’s real, because it is my story.

FIRST CUM

I was an innocent kid. I won’t lie and say I hadn’t ever kissed a girl. I was curious about kissing, and had talked my share of girls into stolen kisses in the garage, or in games of truth-or-dare. However, that is as far as it ever went. I remember one ‘girlfriend’ I had in fifth grade who had just kissed me and said, “I’m not going to have sex with you. My cousin got pregnant when she was in seventh grade, and that’s not going to happen to me.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. My folks hadn’t had ‘the talk’ with me yet and I really didn’t have much clue about how things worked otherwise. I didn’t even talk about it with my buddies. I was into baseball and the outdoors and that’s about it.
Then sixth grade came along. I was eleven. That’s when the changes started happening. I think that makes me an early bloomer, I don’t know what the books say about it. My cock certainly started to grow that year, but it was so gradual I frankly didn’t give it much thought.
Here’s how innocent I was – I didn’t even know what jacking off was. I had seen my friends make the motions with their hands and heard a couple of suggestive comments, but I really didn’t know what it was all about. Like I say, I was clueless.
Then, one night I woke up with the first hard-on I’d ever experienced with my legitimate, pubescent cock. I’d been having a dream about a neighbor of ours, Mary. This was long before the term ‘MILF’ was coined, but Mary certainly would have been called that. She had two kids which had filled out her figure in all the right ways. I was always a boob-man, for as long as I could remember. My dream had been focused on Mary in her swimsuit at the pool. My mind had been fixated on the sight I’d gotten of her gorgeous, full tits in her suit as she leaned on the edge of the pool.
Just to set your expectations appropriately, I never had sex with Mary in case your mind was already wandering down that path. That’s not to say Mary didn’t play a significant role in my sexual awakening. . .it’s just that she didn’t know about it.
So there I was; a raging hard-on between my legs and an unknown yearning in my body.
It was then that I remembered the suggestive comments of my classmates, and the lewd stroking motion they often made.
Putting my hand down, I wrapped my fingers around my young – peach-fuzzed cock and made the first stroke.
THAT was what they’d been talking about. At the time, I didn’t know why, but that stroke felt really good. I stroked again – even better. I began to stroke my new friend slowly and it felt good. I’ll be honest though, it was a curious sort of good. I didn’t know why, or exactly how everything worked, but when I closed my eyes and pictured Mary’s watery tits while I stroked, it just seemed right.
I pumped myself for what must have been at least half an hour, but nothing happened. In truth, I think I wasn’t fully ‘awake’ yet. My cum-factory was just getting started, and really wasn’t quite ready to do anything.
I stopped jerking myself for a while and actually began falling asleep, but these new sensations couldn’t be denied. Before long, my hand was drifting down again and stroking away. Hell, I didn’t even know what was going on. My cock was still inside of my JC Penney tighty-whiteys because I didn’t have a clue I should even pull them down.
Again my eyes closed and I envisioned Mary. The pounding grew more rapid and I was soon thumping away at my awakening friend with all of my might. There was still nothing coming, but there was something stirring deep inside.
My hand was a blur by now and suddenly I felt something very different which made me slow my stroke again.
I think every guy will tell you that an orgasm is like an explosion and it starts from within. I know that’s what cumming is like for me. My first time, the one I’m talking about right now, it wasn’t like that.
The closest analogy I can give you is a pump. If you’ve ever been to a farm or in the country, you know the feeling of working the handle of a pump. It takes a little while, but eventually you’re drawing fluid out.
That’s what my first blast was like. It was like each stroke of my hand started pulling the juice out a little more. I could even feel it rising to the top and then BANG, it was almost like something clicked open inside of me and warm fluid was coming out.
It was different, that first huge spurt. The feeling I described, it was different than any other time I’ve cum. The fluid, too, was very different. It was very, very creamy, almost sticky in a way. Even the smell, which I can still recall, was more sweet in a way.
As I lay gasping on my back, I had no idea what had just happened. As I say, I was not educated about sex – not in the formal or the schoolyard sense. All I knew was what I’d experienced was wonderful and intensely private. I got up and took off my sticky shorts and used them to mop myself up a bit.
Not sure what to do with them, I threw on another pair and snuck down to the kitchen to bury the soaked pair deep in the garbage where it wouldn’t be found. Then it was back to my room to see what more I could discover.
I was already hard again, and my hand was wrapped around my cock. I locked my door and dropped my shorts, loving the feel of standing naked with my grand new discovery in my hand.
I can still remember every sensation of that night. First, it was like I was feverish, my body felt like it was on fire. They say the most nerves in the human body are in the genitals, but it had never occurred to me before that ‘first’ night that there was all that much to do with my penis. Suddenly, I wanted to feel everything against it. I lay down on the sheets and pressed it against the cool cotton. I pulled my pillow down and humped it for a little while. I remember standing, and holding my cock against the cool surface of the wall, loving the sensation of it against my burning flesh.
And, of course, I jerked off again. I took it slowly, savoring every inch that my hand explored. I’ve never measured it, but I’d put myself right in the middle of the curve – you know the 6 inch range. Of course, given my recent growth, it felt very long every time I stroked it.
The next cum was more ‘normal’, for lack of a better word. It was a bit more liquid in texture and I can still feel the heat spreading out across my stomach that second time.
Self pleasure became an instant, nightly routine. Hey, my parents hadn’t talked about sex with me at all – so I sure as hell didn’t have anyone telling me it was wrong. Given my innocent atmosphere, I was just doing something that felt really, really good. For at least the next ten years, I put myself to sleep that way just about every night. In truth, I have only had one legitimate wet dream in all my life. I was around nineteen and just had a busy couple of weeks - but my pressure valve went off soon enough.
My education in masturbation, I’d imagine, wasn’t that much different than most boys. It was at least once a day to start, then twice – once after school (I was a latchkey kid) and once to fall asleep.
I actually happened on lubrication by accident. I think it was a three-a-day, and I’d pounded myself so long and so hard I actually developed a raw spot on the side of my cock. I looked in the bathroom cabinet and saw the big old tub of Vaseline. I figured it would feel good on the raw spot.
It did.
Soon, I was lubing myself up with that and learning the added pleasure of stroking myself with that lovely petroleum lube. I actually worked up a system. Get up, go to the bathroom, scoop a couple of fingers-full and put it at the base of my shaft. Pull my cock upward so my shorts held it in – once back at the bedroom, off with the shorts, put the dollop on my stomach, and lather/rinse/repeat (as they used to say on the shampoo bottle.)
As for visual aids, those were limited. My dad, like most dads, had a small stash of playboys and penthouses that he kept either in a dresser drawer, or between the mattresses (yes, I found them rather quickly). However, he kept close tabs on them. I’d sneak a peak when I could in the afternoons, but it wasn’t like I could waltz into their room at 10:30 and borrow one.
Like I say, I’m a breast man. The best I could find, usually, was the good old Sears catalog – I had the page numbers of the lingerie section memorized. Sure, Mary the Milf played a recurring role in my masturbatory fantasies, as did various classmates and celebrities, but God I loved the cleavage on page 137.
I’d imagine for most people, I’ve already strayed into the TMI area in terms of my road to masturbation – but it’s something I’ve always wanted to share, so I figured I’d do it here.
Now for the good stuff.
My folks were social members of the local Moose Club, and the Moose had live music every first Saturday of the month. My parents didn’t do much in the way of fun, but that was their one consistent night out a month. Sad as it is to say, in a little town like Walsenburg, Colorado, Charley and the Parksiders at the Moose Club is about as good as it gets most of the time.
I had a few babysitters when I was really young, but about the time I was seven or eight, Lori came into the picture. She was four years older than me. Well, she was technically three years eight months older than me – so that made her four years older most of the time and three the rest.
She was a perfect babysitter. Smart, glasses, kind of nerdy in a girl sort of way – she ended up being my regular babysitter for quite a while. Her only living three blocks away and not being a fox (as was the term in those days) she proved to be the most reliable, with no boyfriends entering the picture for a while.
Nerdy or not, she was an awesome babysitter. I remember she would bring great books to read; adventure books, swordfights, she obviously researched what I would like. Plus, she would play with me too. Like most kids of the time, I was a huge Star Wars nut, and she had no problem having light saber duels or setting up battles with my action figures. Come to think of it, I could probably cover a down payment on a new house if I’d kept all those guys around ; )
I was into my nightly routine and keeping it from everyone. Then, I’d guess about four months after I’d started, I made a startling realization about Lori – she had boobs.
I mean, she should have boobs, she was fifteen – but it had never occurred to me that she would have such things. Then, one first-Saturday, we were out with a bunch of other kids in the neighborhood playing a game of tag when I went after her, she turned at the right minute, and my hand pushed into her soft flesh.
“Hey!” she said, quietly.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered, red as a beet. “I really didn’t. . .it was. . .it was a total accident.”
“Okay,” she said, smiling. “But don’t think you can do that any time.”
Mary the Milf was out of the picture. That very night, Lori jumped to the front of the line of who I imagined when pleasuring myself.
Truth was, she actually had a lot going on. Take away the unflattering glasses and she was pretty cute, and now that I’d started looking, she had a really nice body underneath the plain clothes she often wore.
I really wanted to see more, but the clothes kept getting in the way. Some girls go through a phase where they wear lower cut shirts or tighter shorts. Lori didn’t.
Yes, I was one of those pervey kids who try to steal a glance down a shirt when they could, but she never gave me the chance.
In August, after I’d turned twelve, I had the perfect plan. Once my parents left, I hemmed and hawed about what I wanted to do, and then dropped the hint that since it was so hot I’d like to run through the sprinkler.
“Okay, sure,” she said.
Life was good.
“I don’t want to get my suit though, so how about you let me borrow some shorts and a T-Shirt. You’re big enough, I think.”
Life was even better. Not only was she willing to run through the sprinkler, she was going to be naked somewhere in my house.
I fetched some of my loose basketball shorts and a T-Shirt and she went to the bathroom to change. Yes, it occurred to me to try to sneak a peak – but our house didn’t have keyholes. I was able to lay on the floor and get a peak of her feet as her pants slid to the ground – erotic, yes, but certainly no camisole on page 223 of the Spring edition. I scampered back into the living room, and waited for her to appear.
Life was unbelievable.
I’d intentionally chosen a white t-shirt from the year before, hoping it would be tight. Lori, not wanting to get her underthings wet, was clearly not wearing a bra.
We were soon running through sprinkler and shooting water guns at each other.
Life was about as fucking perfect as it could get, as far as I was concerned. The breasts I’d felt in the game of tag were clearly as big as I’d imagined, and growing more visible through the wet cotton by the minute. The highlight came when I grabbed the other hose and started spraying her mercilessly. She rushed me and tackled me and for about five seconds, those gorgeous wet tits were pressed against my chest. She grabbed the hose from me and doused me, but I was too stunned by what had just happened to even feel the water.
It only got better after that. Once we turned off the hose, we went to the back porch and Lori lifted up her shirt to wring it out. I can’t say I got a full view, but I certainly got a glimpse of the bottom half of her wonderful orbs.
I think that was the first time Lori ever noticed me noticing her. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her chest, not after what I’d just seen and then the way the shirt hung against her.
“That was so fun, Josh,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I ran through the. . .Josh?”
“Huh?” I muttered, suddenly recovering enough to avert my eyes. “Oh, yeah – fun.”
She fixed me with a curious expression that was a mix of bemusement and realization.
“Come on in, Josh. Let’s get into some dry clothes.”
I followed her in and went to my room. I contemplated tossing off a quick one, but I realized it wouldn’t do anything to help my cock go down – it’d be right back up again with its youthful resilience.
I came back to the living room to find her back in her own clothes brushing her still-damp hair. She hadn’t put her glasses on yet, and I can truthfully say that moment - that vision of loveliness - was the first time I ever legitimately fell in love.
We sat watching TV on the couch for a little while, then she turned to me.
“Josh, were you. . .” she trailed off.
“What?”
“I - were you having fun out there,” she said, blushing.
“It was great. We should do it again in September if it’s still warm enough.”
“Yeah, definitely,” she said.
I don’t know who came up with the word ‘crush’, but I don’t think there’s a more perfect use of a word in the English language. Every time I saw Lori, every time I THOUGHT of her, it felt like someone was squeezing my heart or lungs. I would walk or ride past her house every chance I got, just in hope of seeing her. Once school started up again, I would find ways to run into her in the main hallway (our town was small enough that all of the schools were on the same grounds – actually in the same connected building.)
The next month, it happened.
Just being around Lori got my cock as hard as a titanium rod and ramped my libido into super-high gear. I was so horny this time that I actually made the excuse to go to bed early. She seemed a little surprised, but gave me a warm hug (with a nice squish against me).
I flipped on my bedside lamp and pulled the Sears catalog out from under my bed. However, with Lori so near, I didn’t have the need for visual aids. I tossed the catalog back down and started stroking away, reliving the night of the sprinkler and the amazing view I’d gotten.
“Josh, I. . .Oh my god!”
A) I hadn’t locked the door, B) I hadn’t turned out the light, C) My covers were all the way down at my ankles.
There was NO way she could have mistaken what she’d just seen for anything other than what it was. I twisted away while grabbing the covers and trying to cover myself.
“I uh. . . Goodnight, Josh.”
The next three hours were the longest of my life. I was too embarrassed to go back out to the living room and Lori was too embarrassed to say anything to me. It was just silence in the house.
Finally, my parents came home and I was fully prepared for my life to be over.
“So, how was your night?” asked my mother.
“Your son is a total sexual degenerate and you should have him institutionalized. . .” were the words I was expecting to come out of her mouth. Instead, I heard –
“Oh, it was great. He is such a sweet kid, and growing up so fast.”
“It’s true,” said my mother. “You know, I’ve been thinking that he’s probably old enough not to need a sitter – but I hate having him in the house alone this late. Plus, I think he really enjoys your company.”
“Mrs. Smith, as long as he’ll have me, I’ll come over.”
God bless Lori. She hadn’t ratted me out. What’s more - after what she’d seen she still wanted to watch me? What was that about?
Since my face turned about seven shades of red whenever I saw her, I didn’t go out of my way quite as much to cross paths with Lori over the next few weeks. However, in a small town it is sort of hard to avoid. Lori was actually surprisingly cool about everything. You never would have known by the way she greeted me that she’d seen anything or knew anything.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t dread the next first-Saturday, though. It was one thing to greet her in public, it was another to have to deal with her in the confines of the house where she’d ‘seen’.
Again, she was cool. No mention was made and there was no change in her demeanor. We still talked, still played games, it was still normal. It ‘seemed’ that she was perhaps carrying herself a bit differently. To my eyes, it felt like she was wearing a bit tighter shirts when she came over, and sitting back a little more so her tits jutted out. Then again, I saw tits in pretty much everywhere I looked so it could easily have been my libidinous imagination.
There was one thing different she did, though.
“How tall are you now?” she asked that night. “It looks like you’re catching up to me.”
She was around average height, 5’6” or 5’7”. We stood back to back, but that was hard to gauge. Instead, we went to the kitchen door frame where my height had always been marked and we marked her height there as well. I had a little less than two inches to catch her.
Keep in mind, I was in the middle of puberty and I was shooting up like a weed. My mom sure as hell complained about it. New pants, new shoes - I was ‘driving her to the poorhouse.’
November, I ‘d closed the gap to less than an inch.
First Saturday in December I stood in the doorway. She came right up to me and put the pencil on top of my head. Her body was pushed up against mine, her breasts brushing tantalizingly against my chest.
“Wow you’re growing fast,” she said, her face less than an inch from mine. She pushed her head past mine to look at the mark.
“Almost,” she said, and there was a hint of disappointment in her voice – not that I noticed it all that much, I was still hypnotized by the smell of her hair and the feel of her body. Something in me knew that it wasn’t just my overactive imagination any more – she was definitely sending out signals. What those signals meant - what the hell I was supposed to do with them - I didn’t have a clue.
We watched a few movies that night, and she sat next to me – right next to me. Our legs soon touched neither one of us moved away. For about two hours we just sat in that awkward intimacy. At last, I couldn’t take the throbbing any more, I swear I was dizzy from how much blood was trying to pump itself into my cock.
“I uh. . .I’m getting sleepy,” I finally said, when I knew I was either going to crawl out of my skin or jump right on top of her if I didn’t get some relief.
“Okay,” she said, softly. “Goodnight.”
She reached over and kissed my cheek. It was, like, one of those awkward kisses right at the edge of someone’s lips. She kissed me for what felt like about an hour (it was probably 5 seconds) and then pulled back slowly.
I walked toward my bedroom and gave her one last look. She was SO beautiful.
“Josh?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“I. . . goodnight Josh.”
I was so dizzy and I’m pretty sure you could have seen my heart beating through my shirt.
I didn’t lock my door.
I did remove my clothes.
I did leave my covers off.
I wanted her to walk in. I prayed for her to walk in.
She didn’t.
I came three times that night. I’d actually stolen an old margarine container and put my own stash of Vaseline in my bedside drawer. The third time, especially, was the beautiful agony you hear about. There wasn’t much cum left in me by then, but I kept myself on the edge for about an hour before that final load dribbled out.

NEW YEAR’S EVE.

It wasn’t a Saturday, but the Moose Lodge always had a big blowout and my folks got Lori to come over.
She came in and my parents left. She was acting sort of funny, I couldn’t figure out how, but definitely different.
“Alright, time to measure up,” she said. “I think you even grew some more this month.”
Again, she snuggled in to measure me. She looked up at the mark and smiled.
“There, it’s official. You are now taller than me.”
“Wow,” I said.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” she asked.
“No.”
“This.”
She leaned in and kissed me.
It was a really good kiss. We made out right there. It’s odd to think of, but my back was up against pencil marks from all the time she’d been babysitting me. Finally, she pulled away. We were both breathing heavily.
“I’ve been waiting for that,” she said hoarsely. “I promised I wouldn’t let myself do that until you were taller than me.”
I had nothing to say.
“You know we can’t tell anyone about this, don’t you?” she said, quite serious.
She was right. Small town, sixteen-year-old girl and a twelve-year-old boy. I might be the hero of my class, but she would be ruined and it would be a scandal that would last forever in the annals of Walsenburg gossip.
Remember how I pointed out the difference between this and a Penthouse Letter. I’m guessing those of you anxious to the good stuff are hoping we stripped off our clothes right there and started doing the nasty. The reality of the situation was, we were a couple of innocent kids who were just starting to figure things out.
What did we do that night? We made out.
We kissed, and kissed, and then kissed some more. Yes, I was keenly aware of her breasts pressed against my chest – just as I’m sure her she knew that wasn’t a pickle in my pocket. However, neither of our hands strayed to any tempting regions. No over-the-shirt, under-the-shirt, over-the-bra, etc. It was just some passionate necking, as they used to say even before my time.
Midnight came - we watched the ball drop and for the first time each of us got a real New Year’s kiss. Before long we were making out again and we were both gasping for breath – and our thoughts were certainly tending toward the more carnal. I’d just worked up the courage to try and cop my first legitimate feel, when she caught my hand and held it close.
“I uh. . .” she said, panting. “I’m guessing you are sleepy, right? It’s probably time for you to go bed? To your bedroom, by yourself, you know? Sleep helps things sometimes, right?”
It took me a little while to cut my way through the lust-filled haze to grasp her meaning.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I should go in. Good idea.”
“I mean,” she said, apologetically. “It’s been a really busy night. A good night, but I think – enough for now? Right?”
“Yes,” I said.
Hey, she was calling the shots. Four years older, real breasts – she was the boss. Besides, it was kind of like she was encouraging me to release the steam boiler anyway. It seemed that way, and I do believe I was starting to pick up her cues a little better.
This time, I didn’t lock the door, but I did keep the light off and the covers on, holding them up with one knee bent as I caressed myself with new fodder for fantasy. Lori’s breasts against me, her incredibly soft lips kissing me, and above all there was her smell. The smell of her hair, her skin, and her perfume were permanently emblazoned in my brain. To this day, a whiff of whatever it was she wore (might’ve been Jovan) will still send me over the edge.
The next month and the month after were more of the same. We’d wait to be sure my parents were good and gone and hadn’t forgotten anything, and then the makeout session would begin. Of course, over-the-shirt, then under-the-shirt evolved – though after three months I’d never made it to under-the-bra, and she had yet to touch my cock with her hand – not even through fabric. That’s not to say we didn’t have some serious dry-humping sessions though. Every time, we’d be a little more shaky, a little more amped up. However, each night she would eventually send me off to my bedroom, a tacit acknowledgement of what I was going to do. Every night, she would also end things with a kiss of one finger to her lips, then press that same finger to mine. . . our signal that we should keep this all a secret.
April arrived, the month of my birthday. Until August, we were only three years apart numerically.
First-Saturday in May she surprised me. We’d barely been kissing for ten minutes when she gave me the usual signal.
“Aren’t you getting tired?”
“I uh. . .”
“No,” she insisted, “I really, really think you look tired.”
“But. . .”
“Trust me, Josh. You’re tired.”
Something in her tone convinced me. Five minutes later I was lying naked in my bed under the covers. My heart practically stopped at the sound of the doorknob turning (of course, I’d left it unlocked). Lori walked into the darkened room and closed the door again. She let her eyes adjust to the low-light and then came over and sat down beside me on the bed. Her landed on my chest, caressing it gently. She reached over and turned on my bedside lamp.
“Can I ask,” she whispered, “do you have any clothes on under there?”
I shook my head ‘no’ numbly.
“Well that hardly seems fair.”
She stood up and began removing her clothes slowly. There was no music, and she wasn’t dancing or making anything about it – but what I witnessed that night has to be in the top five stripteases of all time. Maybe it’s just because I was a thirteen-year-old kid seeing his first naked woman in real life – but on that rating scale, I don’t know how you can argue with me.
First her shirt, then her pants, and finally, she slowly removed her bra.
Heaven had arrived.
She reached down to touch her panties.
“I think I’ll leave these on this time, okay? I don’t think either of us are ready for anything else.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling back the covers.
She was blushing bright red, but she was entranced as well.
“So that’s what I’ve been feeling all this time,” she said.
“You can feel it?” I asked, my turn to blush.
“Well, yeah,” she said, almost laughing. “How could I not? I mean, something that hard and stiff pushing against me, I’m bound to. . .ooh.”
I had stopped her mid-sentence. I’d had a view of her gorgeous breasts for well over a minute now, it had been long enough. I’d leaned up and kissed one. It looked like we were a good match – my favorite part of the body was one of her most sensitive parts.
I spent at least the next twenty minutes kissing and fondling her gorgeous breasts. Through trial and error, (and instinct, I suppose) – I eventually had that universal magical tongue flick on the nipple figured out. We’d maneuvered around by then and she was lying on her back.
“Okay, okay, wait,” she said, pushing my head back and coming up for air. “Wooh, you really like these things, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Better than I thought I would.”
“Well,” she said, giggling, “I’ll let you get back to them in good time, but now. . . now, Josh, it’s time for. . . something else.”
She sat up urged me to sit up, too. She kissed me passionately, and my heart was doing something between stopping and beating about a million beats a minute, I couldn’t really tell which. As she kissed me, her hand strayed further and further down my chest and then – it was there.
Her hand was resting on my cock. Slowly, her fingers wrapped around my shaft. We both froze.
“Wow,” she whispered into my ear.
“Wow, what?” I murmured back.
“Wow, it feels so good. So nice. I didn’t know what it was going to feel like, but I didn’t think it would feel this good. How does it feel for you?”
“So good,” I whispered, kissing her again.
“Is this. . .is this what you do?” she asked, and started stroking me. “Is this what you do when you’re in here at night?”
“I. . .. oh god yes, something like that – but it’s never felt like this when I did it.
It was true. I’d certainly brought myself a ton of pleasure ever since my eleven-year-old awakening, but nothing compared to the feel of what was happening to me at that moment. One of her leg’s was draped across mine, her body was wrapped around me, and her hand was stroking me. I think it was a good thing that I’d been stroking myself of the past year and a bit, and that one of my goals had been to extend the pleasure. I probably would have shot off right away if I hadn’t had so much practice. Plus, Lori was just a bit clumsy with the way she was handling me. That’s not a criticism – just a comment on her amount of practice. Let’s face it, pretty much anyone who has masturbated, male or female, will admit that they can often do a better job with their own hand than a partner – especially a new partner.
That’s not a complaint, in a way, it was a good thing that it was Lori’s first-ever handjob. Just like I’d gotten the chance to explore her amazing tits and learn what worked and what didn’t, she was learning about my cock and having a good time playing with it.
She figured it out soon enough, though. Maybe ten minutes later, I felt the telltale signs stirring and I gripped Lori’s body more tightly.
“Lori,” I whispered, “it’s going to happen.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding.
She watched in fascination as her pounding hand brought the cum out of my cock. She stopped a bit, but then jerked again and gave a soft laugh as her motion made me shoot a bit more.
“That was so. . .” she said, then stopped, grasping for words.
“Gross?” I asked.
“Umm yeah, I guess, a little. But cool, too. I uh. . .” she giggled again, “I know this is sort of going to sound weird. I actually, I feel proud. I did this. I did this for you. That sounds stupid, right?”
“No, no,” said softly. “You should be. . .proud. You did a great job.”
“Well, thank you sir.”
She ran to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, mopping me up lovingly, and even dipping her fingers in to feel the texture again.
“Now,” said, “I was wondering if I could, you know, return the favor.”
“Oh my,” she said, drawing in a breath. “That’s uh. . . that’s uh. . .”
“We don’t have to,” I said, apologetically. “But I’ve been reading, and stuff, and I heard that girls can, feel stuff too – can have orgasms. Right?”
“I. . .yeah, we can,” she said, blushing brightly. “We can. I just, I’m more scared about that part.”
“I don’t mean sex,” I said, quickly. “I’m not asking for that, I just was thinking.”
She silenced me by kissing me fiercely. As we were kissing she grabbed my hand and pushed it down toward her waist, guiding my hand below the waistline of her panties.
“Here we go,” she said. “Here it is, right here is the spot to focus on.”
“Like this?” I asked, rubbing the raised spot she guided me too.
“Yeah,” she said, “Ooh, but not too hard. Careful.”
I had some learning to do, too. You can yank away at a cock and pretty much abuse it and it just gets more fun. Not so much with a girl’s clitoris. Lori was a good teacher though, and I worked from gentle to firmer and I soon found a perfect little circle that had her gasping harder and harder until a wave exploded through her.
“Oh God, Josh. Oh god. She fell over onto her side and her whole body began shuddering. It was so violent I was actually worried about her and asked if everything was okay.
“No. It’s fine. So fine,” she groaned before another paroxysm surged through her body.
When she’d recovered, she pushed me back on the bed and made me lay on my back. She crawled on top of me and held my face in her hands, kissing me with a joyful smile on her face.
“Josh, I’m so glad it was you,” she said. “I mean, I know we haven’t gone all the way, but I’m so glad the first guy I ever did anything with was you. Cute (kiss) sweet (kiss) adorable Josh.”
“You mean, you’ve never?” I asked.
“God, no,” she said. “I’ve been on a grand total of three dates. Two were total failures, and one was with Johnny Thompson, jock extraordinaire. He is such a pig, and kept grabbing me and kissing me with like, all tongue. He was so disgusting and he got all upset with me when I wouldn’t grab his thing.”
“Wow,” I said, “if this is your first time, I’m surprised that you even wanted to look at me after. . . you know – you caught me that night.”
“Oh Joshie,” she said, kissing me again. “It shocked me, I’m not going to lie. But that was the first time I ever saw a penis in real life. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’m not lying, I’ve been seeing dicks everywhere ever since I saw you lying here, that big thing in your hand.”
“It’s not that big,” I said in a shy tone.
“Oh, it’s big enough, Josh.”
She laid there for the next hour. What did we do? We talked. Just the feel of our bodies against each other was so amazing, so comforting, I don’t think either of us ever wanted that magical moment to end.
Finally, she looked at the clock and lifted herself off of me. She kissed me once more and got dressed again.
That was almost as sexy as the undressing part. Watching her clasp her bra in the front, then twist it around and fit her tits in before sliding her arms through the loops. I watched her with total concentration, wanting to fix every picture in my head for all of time. At last, she was dressed again and looked down at my rigid cock lovingly.
“Mm, I wish we could risk spending more time on that, tonight,” she said. “But we’re cutting it close as it is. I’ll tell you what, promise me you’ll be taking – doing that thing I saw you doing – promise me that and you have no idea what it’ll do for me.”
She kissed her finger and placed it to her lips.
Without taking anything away from any other part of my life, I think it is safe to say the next four weeks were the best of my life. Lori and I talked constantly. Most of our conversations were on the phone, but that didn’t matter. We talked about everything – music, movies, friendships, love, movies – and sure, sex. I even let her in on my lubrication secret with Vaseline.
Two weeks into the month, Lori surprised me with a phone call.
“Tell your mom you’re going to go hang out with Jeff and the guys,” she said. “Cut through my backyard, go into the garage, and lay down in the back seat of my car.”
I did as she said, and soon we were on the way.
“I couldn’t wait the whole month,” she said, laughing as we drove. “This whole secrecy thing is really hard.”
She’d scoped out the far side of the Lake and found a place where there was no chance of us being seen. Soon, we were on a blanket in a thicket of trees and she was yanking down my pants after pulling off her shirt to reveal the bra-free tits that had been straining at the cotton fabric.
“There it is,” she said in a throaty voice. “I have been absolutely useless at school. Square root of a hundred? Penis. Hawthorne’s greatest novel? The Scarlet Cock. I’m not lying, I chose a research paper on NASA because of the shape of the rockets.”
I was still standing and she was kneeling in front of me, pumping away with my cock in her fist.
She looked up at me with a daring look on her face, then leaned up and kissed the tip of my cock tenderly. Next thing I knew, she was licking it, and then even sucking on it with her mouth.
Again, she was no expert – but I sure didn’t care. She sucked on me tenderly, and then figured out to start working my cock with her hand while she sucked. Longevity or not, I sure as hell wasn’t going to last for long getting my first blowjob from a topless sixteen-year-old.
“Oh god,” I gasped as the orgasm caught me by surprised. I didn’t have a chance to warn her as the first gush blew into her mouth.
“Oops!” she cried as she pulled back, the next blast hit her chin and then I sprayed all over her wonderful tits.
“Okay,” she said, wiping her mouth. “That was a little bit gross.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “It just felt so good, I didn’t know it was going to come so fast.”
“That’s okay, sweetie. I’ve overheard some other girls talking, and they say it is definitely an acquired taste. No doubt about that. Doesn’t take away from the rest of it though. Man, you shot a lot out.”
It was my turn now, and I pushed her down on the blanket.
“You know, fair is fair,” I said, as I was pulling at her pants and panties.
“Oh, Josh, I don’t know.”
“I do,” I insisted, taking charge for the first time in our relationship.
Any protests she had were soon quieted by my kisses on her soft mound.
“Oh god, Josh,” she moaned as I began to let my tongue find its way to the place my fingers had learned about the week before. Her salty sweetness was so wonderful to taste and I licked her up and down. Of course, I missed my favorite two parts of her anatomy and reached up with my hand and caressed her breast as well. Something about that combination really stirred her, because she practically screamed a few minutes later.
“Oh fuck!” she shrieked, and again she practically rolled into an epileptic seizure as the orgasm began.
“Such vulgar language from such a refined young lady,” I said to her as I cradled her in my arms a few minutes later.
“I couldn’t help it, Josh,” she said, “there weren’t any other words for what I was feeling.”
We made out some more, I got to kiss her tits for a while and then she reached into her purse and pulled out. . . a little tub of Vaseline.
“I figured we should try this, you said it worked better.”
She greased up her hand and began stroking my fully-recovered little friend. There was something about the way she did it that felt SO good. It was different than when I did it, and she found a way of rolling her hand around the top that literally brought tears to my eyes.
“Am I doing good, Josh?” she purred in my ear.
“So good I think I’m going to die,” I gasped. “Lori, fuck, I’ve never. . . oh fffuuck!”
I shot a huge load out onto my chest and she couldn’t help but giggle at the little blasts that kept pumping out of me. When I was done, she toweled me off, but left a little pool on my belly and bent over to lick it up.
“If I’m going to acquire that taste, I might as well start acquiring it now,” she said, shrugging.
Two weeks was far too long, the last Saturday of May, I called HER up and whispered conspiratorially into the phone.
“The old Jensen place, the garage. There’s a set of stairs that leads to a loft at the back. Make sure no one is looking and go in at about 12:30. I’ll be there a few minutes later.”
The Jensen’s had been a nice older couple – some of the long-time residents of our town. They had passed away and their one son was living on the East Coast somewhere. The story was he planned on moving back to our town when he retired.
The house was locked up tight and someone stopped in to check on it every once in a while, but me and a couple of buddies had figured out years ago that the garage was a great spot for secret meetings. Of course, our secret meetings had been along the lines of our secret club, you know, childhood guy things – I don’t think any of us had imagined using it for what I had in mind.
12:40 saw me sneaking into the garage and up the stairs at the back. It was unseasonably warm for May, so the garage was very warm and stuffy. I walked into the little loft and was greeted by the best sight you can imagine – Lori in nothing but her birthday suit.
“Wow,” I said, rushing to kiss her. “What if it hadn’t been me?”
“Well, some lucky kid would have gotten a huge surprise.”
“I’ll say. The surprise of his life.”
“It was just so hot,” explained Lori. “I figured I should do something about it.”
I decided to do something about it too. We were soon standing in front of each other as god made us. I pulled her into a passionate embrace and the sweat was already making things slick and fun.
I’d brought a blanket, which I laid out and we started making out furiously. Pretty soon I was on top of her and we were going at it pretty hard.
We both realized, pretty suddenly, that this was the first time we’d ever rolled around with both of us naked before.
What made us realize that? My cock starting to slip inside of her. Before, there’d always been at least one set of underpants involved to keep us on the dry-hump level of things. Suddenly, we were almost there.
“Josh, wait,” she said, tenderly. “I’m. . . I’m not quite ready.”
“Okay,” I said, pulling back.
Emotionally, I suppose I wasn’t ready, either – but try telling that to my one-eyed monster who had been awoken with a fervor.
“I have an idea,” she said, trying to placate me. “You know, we’ve never actually seen what it looks like when we masturbate. You know, when we take care of ourselves.”
“You masturbate?”
“Well hell yeah, Josh. What do you think I was doing every night that you went into your bedroom. I can hear you, you know. Your bed squeaks just a little bit.”
“Wow, that’s going to help settle me down,” I said. “Not! I’m twice as horny now as I was.”
“Come on, Joshie. This will be fun.”
We kneeled in front of each other, about two feet apart, and started pleasuring ourselves.
It was hot, and I’m not talking the 105 degrees or so in that musty loft. I’m talking about watching her finger her clit, and rub her breasts at the same time. I’m talking about how erotic it was to stroke myself with her watching and approving.
She came first and my god it was a beautiful sight. She just reached out and grabbed my shoulder, her fingers digging into me as her voice rose about three octaves into a high-pitched moan. It didn’t take me much longer until I was about to shoot off. She surprised me in a huge way by dipping down at the last minute and clamping her mouth over my cock. She kept her mouth there and swallowed every drop that came out, sucking so hard it felt like she was pulling the cum right out of my balls.
“Holy crap,” I said, “I guess you acquired the flavor?”
“I’m getting there fast,” she said, grinning.
I was hard again in no time, and we started experimenting with other ways of finding satisfaction without going all the way.
It was Lori who thought of a great way to take advantage of the great lubrication our sweat was providing.
Quite by accident, we discovered titfucking. Of course, we didn’t know that was what it was called, but we sure liked it. All I have to do is close my eyes, and I can still feel my cock cradled between those slippery tits, Lori urging me on to go faster. Another load was soon to follow, and her ‘taste-acquisition was officially complete.
Hard one more time, I actually made her cum with by sliding my cock up and down her moistened opening (without going in). The friction of my cock across her clitoris worked some phenomenal magic that day, she came about three times, all the while begging me to keep rubbing my cock across her little button.
We were both looking forward to the following Saturday, but even a week now, was too long. She knew my Mom came home about four-thirty. At three-thirty, I heard a knock on my back door. It was Lori – she pushed her way in, closed the door, and was down in front of me sucking my cock before I could say anything. She attacked my shaft with a vengeance and had me cumming in about two minutes, again, sucking down every drop.
“You’ve created a monster,” she said, kissing me with salty, softened lips.
Just like that, she was out the door again, and on her way back home.
First-Saturday in June.
I sat on the couch, a throw pillow over my crotch so my parents couldn’t see the raging indication of how much I was looking forward to Lori’s arrival. She came in, and greeted my parents with the usual cheerfulness and demeanor so they would have never suspected a thing.
We waited a shorter time than usual, and she led me straight to the bedroom.
“I read about something,” she said as we were ripping each other’s clothes off.
“What?”
“So, you know the number sixty-nine?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, confused.
I want to remind the reader one more time, we were so innocent (or clueless, you take your pick). These were different times, and even though Lori was older, we’d led pretty sheltered lives. Even 69 was a new discovery for both of us.
“Well, think about the number. No, just let me write it out.”
She grabbed a piece of notebook paper and wrote a big 69.
“Notice anything about it when I turn it over?”
I still didn’t get it.
I soon did.
I came first this time, and she swallowed my load like she’d been doing it all her life. I kept licking away, and Lori came bigger than I’d ever seen her do. She actually had to grab a pillow and stuff it over her mouth to muffle her screams.
She wasn’t satiated, though. Something about that orgasm pushed her into wanting more. Much more.
Once she had her breath back, she attacked me with a fervor, pulling me up to sit on the bed. She rose up and sat down on my legs, facing me, kissing me fiercely until she felt my cock growing hard again.
“Josh,” she whispered. “I’ve been thinking so much about you. I know what we’re doing is wrong – or at least everyone would say it was. I don’t know how it can be wrong, though, it feels so perfect.
She reached into her bag that she’d put by the bed, and pulled out a square foil package.
I might have been na?, but I knew what it was.
“Are you sure?” I asked, seriously.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she said, pulling my hand to her mouth to kiss it.
It was a bit of an adventure, getting that thing rolled down my shaft, but it was pretty erotic doing it together. Once it was on, she had me lie on my back and then she straddled me.
She grabbed my cock and positioned it at her opening.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“God yes,” she whispered.
“HELLO!”
It was my mother’s voice.
Don’t ask me how, but in the space of less than two minutes, Lori was dressed, I had a shirt on, and Lori had gotten my Battleship game set up on my bed.
“Oh hi,” said Lori to my Mom when the door opened. “Did the dance end early? D7, Josh.”
“The power blew down at the Moose and they couldn’t get it back on again. Pretty hard to dance in the dark with no music.”
“Crap, you sunk my cruiser,” I said, miming putting a game piece in place.
“Yes!” said Lori.
“Oh Lori,” said my mother, “I meant to tell you how much we’re going to miss you. I know Josh is going to be practically lost without you.”
“Miss me?” said Lori.
“Yes,” said my mom, “But I’m sure you’re going to love it in Ann Arbor, I hear it’s such a beautiful city.”
“Ann Arbor?” said Lori, sounding even more confused.
“Well yes, your father got the transfer. . . oh no, sweetie, don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
It was clear from the tears forming in Lori’s eyes that this was news to her.
“Oh god, Lori. I’m so sorry. I just assumed your parents had already told you.”
“No,” she said, almost sobbing now. “I knew Daddy had applied for a job, but he didn’t think he’d get it.”
The worst part of this was how much I wanted to hug Lori and comfort her. That wasn’t such an easy thing given I was naked from the waist down under the covers, and still had a condom on my rapidly wilting cock.
“I. . .I have to go home,” she cried, and dashed from the room.
The next day, she came over after school and led me into the bedroom. We were both numb, and she sat me down on the bed and took my hands in hers.
“Josh,” she said, fighting back the tears. “I’m leaving – two weeks after school is out we’re moving to Michigan.”
It turned out that Lori’s parents had been waiting to tell her until the last day of school, not wanting to upset her before she finished finals and all that.
All I could do was sit there, stunned and feeling emptier than I ever had in my life. I didn’t see how it could possible get worse.
“I think this is a good thing, though,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“Josh, what we were doing was wrong. I think me being moved a way, it’s a sign from God, or fate, or the universe or whatever. Your mother almost catching us last night; my dad getting the job; it’s all saying we needed to step away from each other and stop this crazy thing we’re doing.”
“How can you say that?!” I sobbed. “Just last night, you were ready to…”
“Oh Josh, I know I was, and I shouldn’t have! But this thing, it is wrong. Please, you have to understand.”
It didn’t go well after that. I ended up screaming and saying some things I would always regret and so did she. Lori left my house wracked with tears and we didn’t speak again for the next three weeks. In truth, we were both really angry at the situation, but we took it out on each other instead.
The day before she was scheduled to leave town, our doorbell rang and I saw Lori there on the porch.
“I was wondering if I could take Josh for a ride,” she said to my Mom. “Just, to talk, to say goodbye.”
“Absolutely, Lori,” she said. “Go on Josh.”
We drove to a quiet spot and she reached into the back seat and pulled up an antique jewelry box.
“This is my most treasured possession,” she said. “It belonged to my grandparents. They carried it with them when they moved here from Austria. I want you to keep it, to remember me by, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, numbly.
“Josh, please don’t be angry at me. I’m begging you. My heart is broken worse than you can imagine. To have your last words to me be mean – to remember you looking at me like that – it feels like it would kill me.”
I cried then, and buried my head in her shoulder. She just held me and kissed my hair softly.
“Promise not to forget me?” she asked.
“Never,” I said. “Not in a million years.”
She said nothing at that, but started the car again and drove me back home.
In the driveway, she looked around and saw we weren’t being watched. She kissed me one final time. It was tender, and quick – but spoke volumes of her regret.
The next day I hid in the bushes down the street from her house, and watched the moving fan leave, followed by their car. She didn’t see me as she drove past, but I took a tiny bit of comfort at the tears I saw on her cheeks – matching those on my own.
Back in my room, I contemplated the jewelry box she’d given me – and odd gift for a teenage boy, as a farewell gift or otherwise. I opened it and found a note inside.
It was short, and sweet.
“Josh, you were the best part of my life. Something tells me we’ll meet again in happier times. For now, just treasure this and promise to remember me. PS – There’s a secret to this box, just push the two buttons on the corners.”
I examined the box and soon found what she was talking about. There were raised, intricate pieces of wood on each corner of the box. Feeling carefully, I realized the top right and bottom left one could be pushed in. I did so, and heard a slight click and saw a false bottom revealed inside. Removing the bottom, I found the most wonderful gift any one has ever given to me.
There were twenty polaroids in all. Lori had done the old mirror trick, of holding the camera up while facing a mirror and getting a picture of the reflection.
She’d covered every category.
One picture showed her in her prom dress. One was her in a tight, wet t-shirt, pulled up to show just the bottom of her breasts. One was of her simply in a plain shirt and jeans, and of course, many showed her topless or fully nude.
Needless to say, I never opened another Sears catalog – or snuck my dad’s porn, for that matter.
She left after her Sophomore year. The next year we exchanged a few letters and talked over Christmas, though we couldn’t say much personal in any exchange. We soon fell out of touch. You need to remember that this was pre-internet. We had no email, no Facebook. Even long-distance phone calls were pretty pricey so it was a lot harder to stay in touch.
I was sure Lori must be dating. She was gorgeous, funny, and certainly passionate.
As for myself, it wasn’t so good on the dating front.
If you haven’t lived in a small town - here’s the way it works: Jocks date girls two or three years younger than themselves, so the younger guys don’t have much of a chance. If you are kind of brainy, awkward kid like I was, whatever prospects there are tend to be pretty slim. Add in the fact that I’d already been to the mountain, all of those aspects combined to keep me undeniably single. Sure, I had my nightly release of sexual energy, but that did nothing for my emotional life. If it hadn’t been for sports, I can’t imagine how miserable I would have been.
Lori’s graduation announcement came, along with her senior picture. Everything I’d seen in private had come true. She’d ditched the nerdette glasses and gotten contacts, she’d found a cool sense of style, and she had bloomed into a stunning young woman. I’m sure you know that picture was added to the collection in the secret stash.
We stayed in touch less and less, but I did hear through the grapevine that she ended up attending Colorado State University in Fort Collins.
Junior year arrived, and it was time to start the campus visit/college selection process. My school scheduled an annual trip to CSU, so I figured I’d go and check things out.
The week before we left, I gathered up the courage to call directory assistance in Ann Arbor and get her parents’ number. A little more courage, and I had her phone number in Fort Collins.
“Hello,” said the voice on the other end of the phone.
All of the years melted away and I was back to a lovestruck young teen, listening to the sound of an angel on the other end of the line.
“Lori, it’s Josh.”
The other end of the line was silent for a long while.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “It’s been so long. You sound so grown up. I. . . your voice is. . . how are you?”
“I’m good, Lori. Listen, I’m coming up to CSU next week for a college visit, and I was thinking maybe we could – see each other, or something.”
“That would make my year,” she whispered.
We talked for a little while, making small talk, not able to find a way to say what we really wanted to. Finally, she had to run.
“Look Josh, I actually know the people who handle all the campus tours and visits. I’ll find you.”
“But what if. . .”
“Josh, you’ve got my number, but don’t worry. I’ll find you.”
The next week was one of the longest of my life. The first night, I pulled out the sacred polaroids, but it just didn’t seem right to do anything since I was going to see the real thing in such a short time. The next few nights were the longest stretch I’d ever gone without pleasuring myself to sleep. At last, Friday morning arrived and the six of us who were going piled into a full-sized school bus in the early morning hours and hit I-25 for the long journey north.
Through chance, I ended up in a seat across from Karen Hansen, one of the cute girls I mentioned. She’d been dating the same guy, Chuck, since her freshman year. He was now out of high school, drank pretty much every night, and he was becoming the equivalent of a John Mellencamp song (back then he might have still been John Cougar, can’t remember).
Karen kind of rolled her eyes at me, so I just decided to ignore her for a while and popped open my book, - “Stranger in a Strange Land” by Heinlein.
Eventually, her voice cut through my consciousness.
“Is that any good?” she asked.
“What?” I said, confused. “My book. Umm. . . I don’t know yet. It’s kind all about this Martian, well a human who was raised by Martians and he has different ways of looking at life and religion and sex. The story is cool, but I think I’m going to have to wait until the end to see what I think about it.”
“So, are you like, into Star Trek and stuff?” she asked.
“I don’t know about ‘into’, but sure, I like it.”
“Because I am. Chuck always used to make fun of me about it, but I love it. I love the original series and the movies and I can’t wait for the new series to start.”
You learn something new every day. Here was a member of the cheer squad, a little miss priss, and she was a closet Trekkie. She slid next to me on the seat and we were soon talking up a storm about Star Trek, science fiction, and life in general. Eventually, we got around to the subject of relationships.
“So, how are things going with Chuck?” I asked, innocently.
“Are you kidding?” she said, “I broke up with Chuck before Christmas. Where’ve you been?”
“Same place as you,” I said, “I just don’t really keep tabs, you know.”
And then the oddest thing happened - Karen started unburdening everything about her relationship – I mean EVERYTHING. She told me about everything, eventually going into graphic detail about their first time having sex, about learning to swallow (I had to suppress a smile at that), how Chuck would never go down on her, how he made her watch porn with him, and every private detail I never would have imagined a girl like her doing – let alone sharing.
“God you’re easy to talk to,” she said when she’d finished, and then blushed. “A little too easy. I can’t believe I told you all that.”
“No, no, it’s cool,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though I was kind of reeling from having one of the cutest girls in school tell me every one of her secrets and actually talk with me for – geeze, just four hours, we were already turning off toward Fort Collins.”
“Hey Josh, it’s going to be fun hanging out with you this weekend. I can’t believe we’ve waited this long to talk.”
“I know,” I said. “But listen, I’ve got a. . .I’ve got friends I’m going to visit too.”
“Oh, no problem. Whatever, but when we get back to Walsenberg, we could. . .”
“Oh, absolutely,” I said.
I was getting vibes from her. Serious vibes. Nice fucking timing, you know?
We arrived on campus and were very busy for the next few hours. Tours, sitting in on classes, dining hall, a mixer dance (pretty lame, really, though I did get one slow dance in with Karen).
We got back to our dorm rooms at about nine. They’d given us vacant rooms that were pretty bare. All that was in mine was my backpack, a towel, my pillow, and my sleeping bag. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
You know those shots they have in movies when the gorgeous girl walks in? The only thing missing when I saw Lori framed in the doorway was the unexplained wind blowing her hair and dress (I think I actually added a little bit of that with my imagination.)
We stood there, both of us frozen with overwhelming emotion upon seeing each other. From the time of her Senior picture, Lori had gone up about 90 points on the hotness scale. The girl I’d seen in that picture had just been coming into her own, had just discovered her beauty. The Lori standing in front of me had three years of living in that gorgeous skin, of knowing what to do with those looks. She was in a stunning blue dress with a low neckline and a high slit on one side. I felt drastically underdressed, in nothing but sweat pants and a CSU shirt. Based on the way she was looking at me, though, she didn’t seem to mind.
We hugged and she closed the door, walking into the room and looking around at the drab surroundings.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” she said.
“Well, you know, interior design is my second choice for a major.”
We sat down on the bed and just stared at each other some more.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“Nobody?” she asked, incredulous.
“Well, I made out with Lorna Munson at a party, but she wasn’t much of a kisser, not as good as. . . some people. I just don’t think I’m a good match for Walsenburg. Just not too many girls for me there.”
“Oh, I think you’d be surprised. Maybe you’re just not looking.”
“What about you?” I asked.